


Come on, breathe!

by ItsChr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and a little Angst, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Takes Care of Sherlock Holmes, Lifeguards, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsChr/pseuds/ItsChr
Summary: John Watson is a Lifeguard. One day he saves the Life of a boy. A boy with incredible eyes.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

John Watson was late. Again. He ran through the streets panting, laboriously dragging his bag behind him. It was summer. One of the hottest days in July. Sweat ran down his face. Finally he reached the changing rooms. He threw the bag into his locker, changed and went outside.  
John was a lifeguard at a small natural pool. It was only 9:00 a.m., but some people were already sitting in the warm sand or swimming the first laps. Janine came up to him. "You are late!" "Thanks I know." he murmured. John took the megaphone and the small binoculars and hurriedly climbed onto the lookout, from where he had a good view of the entire lake.

The job was boring. There were no tiles, so there was no racing ban. So far, nobody had ever almost drowned. He took a deep breath, then a sip from his water bottle. The sun burned on his skin. Not much happened during the day. No opportunity to take out his frustration with loud children. It was already after noon when the shift change finally took place. John slipped off the looker and handed the equipment to Jim, whose turn it was.  
Jim was a small but very handsome boy with dark hair and eyes. No sooner had he sat down than he raised the megaphone to his mouth. “Hey folks, now that Mr. Watson's boring shift is over, feel free to go into the water as a non-swimmer. I'll save you spectacularly, believe me. ” He winked at John. A few girls laughed. Jim grinned. John sighed.

He shuffled into the locker room, weary. He took a quick shower and decided to stay a little longer. With an ice cream in his hand, he dropped into the sand next to Molly, his best friend. She smiled. "You're offended again." she noticed. John shrugged. "You shouldn't listen to Jim!" Molly warned. John rolled his eyes. "Let me be offended." he said offended. Molly giggled. For a while they just sat next to each other. The beach became increasingly empty. At some point there were only a few people left.  
Mike Stamford was now on the lookout. He seemed to have fallen asleep. Molly let sand trickle through her fingers. "I think I have to go, my father will kill me." John frowned. Molly's father was never at home, but he understood the clue and nodded. "Okay see you tomorrow?" "Sure," grinned Molly and punched him in the shoulder in a friendly manner.

After a few minutes it got boring. John stood up when he noticed some air bubbles on the surface of the water. He frowned and looked at Mike, who hadn't moved a bit. He walked slowly toward the bank. On closer inspection, he recognized a body that was rocked back and forth under the gentle waves.  
John didn't hesitate for a second. He jumped into the cool lake and dived in. He couldn't really see what he was doing, but he felt an arm. Finally, he encircled the body's chest and dragged it to the surface. "Mike!" he screamed. "Mike!" The remaining bathers stared at him in amazement. The body was limp in his arms. In fact, Mike came running. John waded on the beach and released it.

It was a boy his age with dark curls hanging from his head in wet strands. He was tall and slim. The pale skin rose from the damp sand. His eyes were closed. And he wasn't breathing. Mike called 911. John started a cardiac massage. The body under him was so thin that he expected a few broken ribs afterwards. Then he leaned down, covered his nose, and pressed his lips to the boy's blue discolored ones. He glanced at the upper body. There was no reaction. He continued with another pressure massage. A small group of people had gathered around him. In the distance he could hear the ambulance. "Come on," John murmured. "Breathe" Again he leaned down to the resuscitation. And the eyes opened. An indefinable mixture of gray, green, and blue stared at him. A rattling sound came from the boy's lungs. John paused, caught in the intense look. Then a medic pushed him aside.  
He let them do their work. He gasped through his hair. Mike tried to get rid of the people. One of the paramedics came up to John. “Hey, you did well. He'll get back on his feet. ” He looked around at the stretcher on which the boy was now lying. "Without you he would probably have died." John smiled. "Thats my job." "Mine too." laughed the sani.

John watched the ambulance go. Mike patted his shoulder. "Sounds like promotion," he grinned. But John wasn't listening to him at all. He was too distracted by the boy's eyes, which were still stuck in his head


	2. Chapter 2

Doors slammed open. It rattled. Every sound was incredibly loud. Sherlock was dizzy. He coughed continuously, had difficulty breathing, and an ongoing urge to vomit. A bunch of people he didn't know palpated his body, touched his face and talked to him. Sherlock wanted to complain, but he couldn't speak.

Young, just started as a medic, arguing with his girlfriend, has a cat

He looked around again.

Mid-fifties, married, at least two children, smokes secretly

Sherlock's eyelids grew heavy. His head pounded. Someone patted his cheek. He groaned. Then everything around him went black.

***  
His vision was blurry when he woke up again. He felt weak, inferior. "Really Will, you can swim, that's really embarrassing!" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, piss off!" “William, please, not in that tone! And Mycroft, the same applies to you. ” Sherlock looked at his mother in exasperation. "How are you?" she finally asked a little more gently. "Brilliant." he murmured and looked around. He hung on a drip, wore a nasogastric tube, and noticed that his skin was even paler than usual. “William, please! You almost died, what did you do? ” “Don't always call me that! My name is Sherlock. You don't call Mycroft Alex either! ” His mother shrugged. “That is not the issue right now, young man. I want you to explain why you were unconscious in the water. And I want you to thank the lifeguard who saved you! ” "What? That's his job. You don't say thank you when the cashier gives you back your credit card either. ” "Yes Sherlock!" cried his mother angrily.  
“Besides, he's already here. He wants to know how you are. He's worried. Be nice!" Sherlock's eyes widened. He was only wearing pajama bottoms. "No, I can't now ... I .. I still have to .." He scratched his head. His mother smiled. ”Yes, yes it's fine Sherly, I'm going to let him in now. Try to act like a human being once in your life. ” He groaned. "Sherly? What-"  
A boy with blonde hair and dark blue eyes entered the room. "Hi?" he said with a questioning expression on his face. "How are you? I am- ”  
“ John Watson, lifeguard. You find your job extremely boring, but you still go there again and again. I assume, you need the money. So, poor conditions. Besides, you want- ”Sherlock frowned. "To become something? Doctor? This is where lifeguard training can be useful. Your father is in the Army. You don't seem to miss him very much, otherwise you wouldn't have just left the watch you got from him on the beach. Your mother wants a divorce, but she can't afford it, and, oh, your brother outet himself recently, right? ” 

The boy stared at him. "Um, yeah that's a little strange, but- wait I forgot my watch?" John Watson looked at his empty wrist. "Shit, it was expensive!" He was startled. "Wait a minute, you were half dead, how could you-" Sherlock smiled. "I'm fine." He looked at John. "Was there anything else?" The boy hesitated. "No, but ... that was ... that was ... so cool." Sherlock blushed. "I beg your pardon?" "No, really, really great and ... how do you do that?" "Um ... I'm just paying attention. Your whole attitude tells me that you grew up under military supervision. How you approached me with an outstretched hand. And before you got in, you disinfected your hands. But this is not the intensive care unit, you shouldn't have done that. Only the doctors do it. But you did it too, you know how it works in a hospital, so you got into that. Most likely career aspiration: doctor. And your brother, you got his bag. But it has not been in your possession for a long time, the straps are not yet properly adjusted to your size, something that you actually do immediately after purchase. A small rainbow flag hangs on the zipper of the bag. Could be a coincidence, but which young man walks through the area with a bag like this and isn't gay, or just got it from someone because he doesn't want to spend money on a new one? The little name tag told me that. Sure, Harry could also be your cousin or father, but your family doesn't just accept gifts like that, brother. Since you obviously have little contact with your father. ”

“Oh my lord, wicked. I mean… no, really awesome. ” "You are still here." Sherlock noted. "This is pretty obvious isn't it?" John hesitated. "But you should know one thing." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Harry is short for Harriet." He grunted. "Sister! Harry is your sister! ” John nodded. "Sherlock," said Sherlock. "What's a Sherlock?" asked John. Sherlock snorted. “My name, Dr. Watson. ” "Oh...I have to go ... um ... here." He held out a small piece of paper to Sherlock. "If you feel like chatting or something .." He grinned crookedly. Then John Watson left the infirmary.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as John left the hospital, he took a deep breath. "What was that?" he asked a little confused. These eyes didn't let go of him all the way home. He opened the door of the small flat and went into the kitchen. It smelled of smoke. His mother sighed in front of the oven. John giggled before going into the room he shared with Harry. She wasn't there. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall for a while. And he felt like Sherlock's eyes were staring back. Then his cell phone vibrated. John winced.

\--Thanks SH--

He eyed the message. He didn't know anyone with those initials. Or did he?

\--For what?--

Asked he. Nothing happened. John put his cell phone aside and looked at the wall again.

\--That you saved my life and all that. SH--

\--Oh, it's you--

John smiled involuntarily.

\--I'm bored. Do you happen to know a few good ways to break out of a hospital? SH--

John laughed, even though he wasn't quite sure if Sherlock was joking.

\--Just stay where you are--

He hesitated.

\--What does the H stand for?--

\--Holmes SH--

John nodded and thought about it for a moment.

\--Why do you always sign your texts?--

\--Why not? SH--

\--clever--

\--I know SH--

Jon rolled his eyes but continued to smile.

\--But honestly, do you do this to every person you text with?--

\--I am not texting with anyone SH--

\--What?--

\--Can't you read it? SH--

\--I can--

John swallowed. Sherlock could probably tell that John was more than embarrassed just because of that single message.

\--Most people don't save my number. Not even my brother does--

\--Sorry, who's this? I stupidly didn't save your number:)--

\--John...--

\--I assume you found out that I saved your number? -

\--Obviously--

John's smile widened. A warm feeling filled his chest.

\--So you have a brother--

\--Yes, Alex--

\--Alex?--

\--Okay, not Alex--

\--Mycroft--

\--How?--

\--I met him at the hospital, master detective--

He waited a few seconds. Nothing happened. Now he had finally messed it up.

\--I feel a little exposed ...--

\--Tell your mother to open a window, otherwise you two will suffocate--

\--What? How do you know about- --

John got up and ran into the kitchen. The smoke alarm made uncontrolled noises and the neighbor kept knocking on the wall. "Mum, open the fucking window!" he yelled. She nodded coughing. John pressed his arm to his face as he went back to his room. "How do you feel about cooking classes?" asked a deep voice. John jumped half a meter in terror. "Shit what?"

Sherlock was sitting on his bed. He was wearing nothing more than pajama bottoms and a hospital shirt that was more or less thrown over. John stared at him. "How the hell did you get in here?" he finally gasped. "Front door," Sherlock said shortly. John nodded. "Let me ask that question differently ... why?" The boy shrugged. "I was bored" "How-" "My brother already knew your address when you were still on your way to the hospital." "Oh, protective then?" John looked around the room awkwardly. Sherlock remained silent "So?" "So what?" Sherlock looked at him intently and John melted under the gaze. “How did it happen? In the water, you know ... ”John scratched his head. "It was an experiment." He laughed. "Who can hold his breath the longest?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Let's say I had a little accident during the experiment," John nodded. "And um .." A little nervous, he ran his hand through his hair. "Do you have a girlfriend?" Sherlock coughed. "Uh John, you should know, that resuscitation meant nothing to me. As you said, I was half dead and- "" Oh god no! That wasn't supposed to-no! ” John's eyes widened. "Good." Sherlock nodded. "Still, do you have a girlfriend?" Sherlock shook his head. "No, I'm gay." That came surprisingly fast. "Oh ... okay uh boyfriend?" "Nope" John didn't learn a thing from the face, that continued to look at him intently.  
"I should ... go ... now," Sherlock finally said, getting up. He was trembling a little. "Are you okay?" John asked worried. "Yes, yes I just need a little ..." He coughed again. "Morphine, then everything will be fine." He smiled. John looked at these lips a little too long before tearing himself free. "Okay, um here." He pointed to the door. "Bye?" "Yes bye"  
The front door slammed shut and John stood in his room undecided. Then he let himself fall onto his bed, moaning.  
John Watson was hopelessly in love.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock strolled aimlessly through the city. He did not plan to go back to the hospital. Instead, he ordered a glass of water at Angelo’s and looked out the window. It began to rain and the night fell. The dining room became increasingly empty until Angelo personally came to his table and asked him to leave. Sherlock went home. Mycroft, his mother and his little sister Eurus were sitting in the kitchen. "Evening." he murmured. His mother rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, where the hell were you?" "Doesn't matter." Eurus giggled. "Mycroft!" Mycroft stopped smiling, jumped up and brought his sister to her room. "Do you know how worried I were about you?" She got up and came up to him. Sherlock swallowed. "I thought you were dead in any dark alley!" He looked down to the floor. "Sorry mum." She let out a sharp breath. Then she put a hand on his shoulder. He raised his head and looked her straight in the eyes. "What's wrong with you?" “That stupid therapist has said that enough times! I am a high functional sociopath. ” Sherlock got angry. “No darling, you are not, I don't believe that. You care for us ... whether you like it or not. ” Sherlock snorted. "I want you to find friends ... Only one would be enough! You are always so lonely. ” “Mum, there is a difference between lonely and alone. And being alone is what I have. Alone protects me. ” She laughed bitterly. "Is that why you almost drowned? Because no-one was with you?" Sherlock sighed. "Go to sleep now, I'll call the hospital and let them know you're here." He nodded and went up the stairs. "Oh and Sherlock?" He turned around on the landing. "Yes?" His mother smiled warmly. “You are not a sociopath. Don't tell that to yourself, right? ” Sherlock nodded again.  
He hated to admit that, but she was right. He lay down in bed and took a deep breath. Then he reached for his cell phone.

\--John?--

It was a while before an answer came in.

\--Yes?--

\--I need you--

\--What for?--

\--I am a terrible person--

\--That's right, but that's okay, aren't we all?--

Sherlock giggled.

\--Not you--

he wrote and regretted it at the same moment. It sounded like he was flirting with John, which he definitely wasn't going to do.

\--Oh yes I am, I haven't even tried to get my watch back...just as an example--

Sherlock sighed.

\--So what do you need me for?--

\--make me a better person--

\--How?--

\--I don't know--

Sherlock swallowed a morphine tablet and grinned.

\--Sherlock Holmes doesn't know? I am amazed--

\--And I'm drugged--

\--Hm--

The next morning housekeeper Mrs. Hudson came to his room. She wasn't really the housekeeper, which she always emphasized, but somehow she was always there. “Good morning sweetheart oh you look awful! I have tea, darling. ” "Thank you ..." "But only the one cup, I'm not-" "- my housekeeper." Sherlock finished the sentence. She smiled. "Do you need anything else?" He shook his head. When she was gone, he sent John his address and asked him to come. “He would find a friend the way his mom wanted. In fact, the doorbell rang a few minutes later. Eurus hopped into the hallway and pulled it open. "Oh, hi, who are you?" John asked and leaned down. She grinned and held out her hands for him. "Are you playing escape room with me?" He frowned. Then a hand pressed itself into Eurus' face and pushed her to the side. "Sorry." Sherlock muttered. "Come in." "Damn, the house is huge." said John and Sherlock smiled. "Uh, do you want to eat, drink or-" John shook his head. "Thanks, no, uh, why am I here?" Sherlock paused. "I thought that's how you do it with friends ..." John grinned. "Have you never invited anyone?" he asked incredulously. Sherlock shook his head. "Ok, then let's go to your room and tell me a little bit about yourself. In return, I'll explain how to deal with friends, yeah? ”

Sherlock opened the door to his room and started hurrying to stuff some things into drawers and boxes. "Is that a Bunsen burner?" asked John. "Uh yes, well, that ... belongs to Mycroft, I have to give it back." Sherlock took the device and threw it into a closet. "You play the violin?" Sherlock hesitated. "Sometimes when I think." "Cool, I wish I could play some instrument." said John. "I could show it to you if you want." Sherlock said absently and kicked a box with different kinds of ashes under the bed. "Really? Thanks." John smiled and sat on Sherlock's desk chair. "So you have a sister." John finally said. "Yes, if she asks you to play escape room with her and you agree, she'll lock you up in the basement and starve you there until Mum finds out." John looked a little scared. “But she is only... how old? Ten?" Sherlock shrugged. "I guess it's in the family." John nodded. "That strikes me as possible." They looked at each other and laughed. The day went well. They sat on the bed together and talked. Sherlock told of everyone at his school who wanted to kill him almost every day. There were a surprising number. John told about Molly and that he played rugby. When it was getting dark outside, John made his way home. "That was nice." Sherlock said and grinned. John nodded. "Yes, we... should repeat that." He blushed.


	5. Chapter 5

John looked at Sherlock's lips, which he would have loved to kiss. Then he pulled himself together and nodded. "See you!" he said and went home.  
Over the next few weeks, they became very good friends.  
Over the next few week, Sherlock's mum got sick.  
Sherlock seemed carefree as usual, but John didn't want to accept that his best friend was seemingly not interested in his mother's life. "What if she dies?" he asked one day. "People do that." Sherlock said with a shrug. John shook his head angrily. He complained to Molly, who advised him to let it be. Once John unconsciously agreed to an escape room game with Eurus. After two miserable hours, Sherlock came and freed him, not without slapping his sister with a cuff afterwards. And every day John got lost in Sherlock's eyes again. Every night he despaired inside, knowing that his feelings would not be returned. Sherlock didn't love people. He thought sentiment was a chemical defect. One day he picked Sherlock up from school, where he received him covered in blood and limping. "What's happened to you?" John asked in shock, although he could already have guessed. "Moriarty, that moron..." hissed Sherlock. "He goes to your school?" He didn't know that. "Oh, dear, poor you. Is there anything I can do to help?" Sherlock rolled his beautiful eyes. "No, leave me alone." He left John standing outside the school gates. He didn't hear from Sherlock for the next few days. No messages. No phone calls. No visits at 3am because he was bored. No-one would open the front door for him when he rang the Holmes' bell. "Sherlock?" he shouted, looking up at the bedroom window. The lights were on, the windowpanes weren't too thick, but he still didn't answer.   
He started to worry. What if something had happened to him again. What if some experiment had gone wrong and he'd burst into flames. "Have you broken up with your boyfriend?" Harry asked him teasingly "He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!" He didn't feel like having this conversation and went to his room, which was also, stupidly, Harry's room. "Come on, you can talk to me." John shook his head. and his sister held him close for a moment. "All right, then don't."   
One night, John couldn't take it any more. He needed to see Sherlock. He couldn't bear the silence in his life. 

So he found himself laboriously climbing up the gutter of the house. The window was a little bit open. That was good, because he would not have known what to do if that had not been the case. Carefully he glided into the familiar room. "Sherlock?" he whispered. There was no reply. John looked around. Everything looked the same. The bathroom door was open. There was a hissing sound. He slowly walked towards the door and pushed it all the way open.   
Sherlock was lying in the overflowing bath fully clothed. His eyes were closed, but he breathed deeply, in and out. "Hey, what are you doing?" John asked carefully and walked towards his friend. "Thinking." Sherlock muttered. John turned off the water and knelt in the puddle that had formed in front of the bathtub. "What are you thinking about?" Sherlock shrugged. John noticed a tear on his face. "You're crying," he said. "Perfect sounding deduction, you learn so quickly," Sherlock said. His hands were joined under his chin. His chest rose and fell slowly. He had a small, slightly older laceration on his forehead.   
"What the hell, Sherlock?" mumbled John angrily. "What is it? I want to know what's going on! You wanted a friend, now act like a friend to him!" He stood up. And Sherlock opened his eyes. They were all red and watery. "John, I don't know what to do," he said shakily, staring at the ceiling. "What's wrong?" He wiped a tear from Sherlock's cheek with his thumb. "I don't know what I can do about this... what I can do to make it stop hurting so much!" He looked at John. He frowned. "What hurts?" he asked, then he knelt down again slowly. Sherlock was silent for a moment. Then he said, "She's dead." 

John gulped. "Oh" and Sherlock broke. He clung to John's hand and sobbed. The latter hesitated briefly. Then he pulled his friend into a very wet hug. Water sloshed over the edge of the bathtub. Sherlock buried his face in the crook of John's neck and he felt every single tear. "She told you so," he muttered into Sherlock's hair. "You're not a sociopath. Here's the proof." He smiled.Something like a tortured laugh echoed through the bathroom. "Of course she was right."   
John didn't know that Sherlock was referring to some other statement from his dead mother. Because once, she'd told him, "Sherlock, you love him."


	6. Chapter 6

"Why do you always have to hurt me with words, Mummy wouldn't be pleased to hear that..." Mycroft quipped. "Do you want me to use knives?" Sherlock asked unambitiously. He yawned. It was early in the morning, but still he was already late. "Can't I stay home?" Sherlock's father shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you'll go to school." Sherlock moaned. "Only if Mycroft stops being such a dick." Eurus giggled."You said dick!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and left the house.  
The school corridors were like cleaned out. Hurriedly he slipped into the right classroom and faded out the annoying comments of the teacher. Sherlock had always wondered how his general knowledge of English literature would help him in life and he always came to the conclusion that it wouldn't help him at all. The schoolbell rang. Hastily, all the students rushed out of the room. The teacher called him. "William, you know- " "Sherlock. " Sherlock interrupted him. "I'm sorry?" The man seemed confused. "My name's Sherlock, not William." "Oh, yes, well, um, as you know, it's perfectly all right if you need some time off after your mother's death and don't go to school for a while. Well, because ever since then..." He pointed at Sherlock's forehead. "...the...fights have become more frequent. Maybe it'd be better if I took you off classes for a while." "Oh, have you finally realised people can actually live without English literature?" Sherlock asked mockingly, grinning. "Besides, I would call it a fight if both parties would take an active part in it. In fact, I never punched any of them."  
He left the teacher sitting in the classroom. The rest of the day was even more boring than expected. When it was finally over, Sherlock got up quickly and rushed to his locker. Of course, someone pushed him roughly to the side so that he dropped his stuff and panted quietly. Jim Moriarty smiled at him coldly. "Any plans for tonight?" he muttered softly and the hairs on Sherlock's neck stood up. "Indeed, yes," Sherlock said, smiling back. He picked up his books and his bag and closed the locker. Moriarty clawed painfully into his upper arm. "I don't think so, I'm still not finished with you." "Look Jim, this is all very nice and I'm really flattered but I'm not interested in another brutal date with you. Now if you'll excuse me. Oh, and you're wearing your shirt on backwards." Sherlock walked away. 

Moriarty mumbled. "All right, as you like." Then he knocked Sherlock down with a hard kick. "I don't really care what your plans are Sherly and uh well you on the floor, you have to admit, it's a little sexier than you standing." Sherlock frowned and got up. "Then I'm sorry to thwart your erotic sensibilities, maybe you can beat me up again tomorrow." "I don't think so, I've got plans tomorrow." Moriarty swung and punched him twice in the face. Sherlock tasted blood. "Bloody hell, Jimmy, I haven't got time for this. The game is off." Moriarty smiled blissfully. "But I love to play so much." he said with a feigned pout. And he struck out again. 

"Hey, stop it, what are you doing?" a familiar voice suddenly cried out. Moriarty turned quickly and looked confused from Sherlock to John. "Your little guardian angel?" Sherlock hesitated. "Yep, my little guardian angel. Hi, John, you know Jimmy? "Oh, yes." And John knocked Moriarty down. "What the fuck John, calm down, Sherlock just asked for getting punched again." He paused for an artificially dramatic pause. "Jealous? Would you like to slap those cheekbones?" He literally puked out that last word, stood up and stroked out his school uniform. Sherlock looked up at John in surprise and lost himself in his face for a moment. John did look a little confused. "Well, I'd say...all sorted?" "Of course." Moriarty, amazingly, nodded, then turned the corner. "Sherlock glanced after him. "Is everything all right?" John asked, and took a step towards him. His fingers ran gently over the injured skin and Sherlock melted away at the touch. "This looks bad." "A-a-all is well, I'm fine", he stuttered.  
Then Moriarty came round the corner again. "Sorry, boys, I'm so changeable." He laughed a mute laugh. There were four huge guys standing behind him. Sherlock identified them as Carl Powers, Jeff Hope, Charles Magnussen and of course Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's eternal companion. 

"Your little guardian angels?" he asked amused. Then he grabbed John by the wrist and dragged him behind him as the four little angels boarded towards him. They ran out of the school and turned into an alley. Left, left again, then right, across the street. Their arms rubbed against each other and a loose thread from Sherlock's coat got caught in John's watchband. "Shit." Sherlock snorted and tried to slip the thread off John's wrist as they ran. It didn't work. "Take my hand." he called out against the city's car noise. And John took his hand. Sherlock, involuntarily, had to smile. It felt right, like John's fingers should have been around his all along. It seemed as if they had already lost their pursuers. Still, Sherlock dragged his gasping friend further through the dark alleys. When a tall green fence appeared in front of them, John felt the faint hope of a short break, but Sherlock skilfully jumped onto a few trash cans and swung himself over the fence. John was thrown against the iron bars. "Sherlock!" he hissed. Sherlock turned around. Their hands were clasped together over the fence. They stared at each other panting . Their faces were only inches apart. And again Sherlock was lost in the depths of John's eyes.  
And then John grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down. Their lips collided and Sherlock made a surprised sound. The kiss was sweet, tender. John carefully slipped his tongue between Sherlock's lips, causing the latter to sigh softly. He pushed his free hand against John's neck and pulled him even closer. After too short a time they separated. Sherlock looked at John in slight surprise. Then they heard the footsteps of Moriarty's mates coming towards them and he tore his gaze away. "Get up there!" he said calmly, pointing to the bin. John was shaking. "Now swing one leg over the fence, it's not as sharp as you think." John fell more badly than right to the other side. "All good?" asked Sherlock and knelt down. John nodded and smiled. Then they ran on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fellow readers. First of all I'd like to say thanks for reading this crap, second of all I want to mention that I know that John lost his watch, I'll clear that in the next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

Breathing heavily, Sherlock slammed the door shut and leaned against the wall. John laughed. He was free, felt alive. "This..." he gasped. "This was something, wasn't it?" Sherlock slumped to the floor. "Definitely." He smiled. "What exactly do you mean?" he added. John sat down too and ran his fingers through his hair. "Everything. "Sherlock fell silent. He looked at his fingers. "You got your watch back, then? "Yeah, Stamford brought it over." Silence. For a long time, they just sat next to each other. It wasn't uncomfortable, John could have been like that for hours, as long as Sherlock was close by.   
"Well?" he finally asked. "We're not gonna talk about it?" Sherlock hardly noticeable flinched. "No," he said softly. "No?" John was confused. "Why not?" There was no reply. Instead, Sherlock got up and went up the stairs. "Good night, John," he said, before disappearing into the darkness of the upstairs corridor.   
John frowned. "Hey, wait." He picked himself up and followed him. He stopped just outside Sherlock's door. Violin music filled the house. Slowly John sat down in the hall, leaned against the cool wood and closed his eyes. He loved it when Sherlock spoke through the beautiful melodies. John knew he would never admit it, but he had written them all himself. A sigh escaped him. Eventually, the notes faded. A shadow appeared in front of him.   
"No, Eurus, I do not want to play with you." "Do I really look that young... And female?" Mycroft asked bitchy. John raised his head. Mycroft bent down. "If you hurt him, I'll hurt you," he hissed in his ear. John turned away. The door was ripped open and he fell backwards. Sherlock didn't even look at him, he just sparkled at Mycroft. "Don't be so protective, leave me alone...And don't ever speak to John again, you'll lower his IQ." Mycroft raised one eyebrow. "Oh, Will who's being protective?" "SHERLOCK. THE NAME IS SHERLOCK HOLMES!" he shouted. "Whatever." Mycroft muttered and grinned viciously. Then he disappeared into his room. Sherlock pulled John up by his upper arm. "I can't do this. I can't do this. I don't know how, Victor's promised to come back and..." "Victor?" Sherlock took a step back.  
"Who..." John laughed confusedly to suppress his impending disappointment. "...is Victor?" Sherlock pressed his lips together, avoiding his gaze. "No-one, he's...no-one, listen John, just forget it happened." "IT? This is all for you?" John stared at Sherlock. "Did IT mean nothing to you?" He swallowed. So did Sherlock. "You should go." "No, you can't keep chuckin' me out every time you run out of ideas! You're the big clever Sherlock Holmes. Time to deduce how to keep important conversations going!"   
"But- " "Who is Victor?" "We, uh..." Sherlock sighed. "He... I mean...well, he was, we were a couple. Are...together, I think." John's heart skipped a beat. With a wave of panic, he looked at Sherlock. "A ... couple," he repeated monotonously. "He's a few years older than me and he's joined the army." Sherlock sighed. "He promised me he'd come back...alive, but..." He looked down. "You said you had no boyfriend..." John clenched his fists. "You lied to me from the beginning!" he snorted. Sherlock was about to say something. "And you certainly can't say you didn't know!" John stuck a finger in Sherlock's chest and he pulled back. "John..." "No, NOT JOHN! VIctor! You knew everything, but you never said anything, not one word! Why?" "What did I know?" Sherlock was shaking. "YOU fucking knew all along I was into you and your stupid cheekbones and your stupid coat and your stupid mystery and god, your eyes!" Sherlock frowned. John silenced and let him go.   
Sherlock shook his head. "What?" "You...didn't know?" The dark-haired boy winced again. "Um, no." John nodded. "Hmm. Now this is embarrassing." Sherlock giggled. "And Victor...is he nice?" Sherlock smiled gently. "I think he's dead, in the first place."   
John swallowed. "Oh, I'm...sorry." He muttered hastily.   
"But Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled him towards him. "I love you too, silly." And he gently put her lips together. John melted as he deepened the kiss and knotted his fingers in Sherlock's neck. He tasted a tiny bit of smoke, coffee, mint and salt water. Such a strange mixture, a perfect match for Sherlock Holmes. He moaned softly as his tongue explored Sherlock's mouth. Time stood still until they slowly separated and put their foreheads together. "Thank you..." whispered Sherlock. "What for?" asked John. "For making me a better person." John giggled. "You're welcome." "Do you remember your first words to me?" John pondered for a moment. "Hi, I'm John?"   
Sherlock shook his head. "A wisdom that I can't get out of my head, even if I can erase all the things that I want..." "I'm listening, you little philosopher." John teased and Sherlock punched him in the stomach. John gasped. And Sherlock smiled encouragingly. 

"Come on, breathe."


End file.
